


Duty

by FirebirdsDaughter



Series: Game Demos - Works of Kamen Rider Ex-Aid [2]
Category: Kamen Rider Ex-Aid
Genre: Bugster Family, Gen, I like to beat up my favourites and poor Graphite happens to be my favourite Bugster, Original Bugster, Original Character Introduction, The Bugsters get ambushed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 07:58:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11180433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirebirdsDaughter/pseuds/FirebirdsDaughter
Summary: Parad surprises himself when he and Graphite are attacked by a mysterious Bugster he's never seen before.





	Duty

**Author's Note:**

> So, I really like beating up the characters I like, and Graphite was unfortunate enough to fall into that category. I would never kill him, but I know that in the show, chances are high that he's probably gonna die, so I figured I'd try to show my favouritism while I can.

Parad was not a particularly emotional person—it had crossed his mind a few times that the other Bugsters behaved so much more human-like than he did. When he knew they weren’t looking, he’d sit back and watch them—Lovrica, Poppy, even Graphite—trying to understand the nuances of humanity that he was missing. He knew that the reason was the way they had been created, that the data of human emotion had seeped into their programming from their hosts, while his birth had been more like a sharp cut.  
But now Lovrica was dead, Poppy was back in CR, both disappointed and angry with him, and Graphite was all that was left.  
This time, he wasn’t about to let the other Bugster out of his sight.  
He had stood silent while his comrade had writhed in agony in the tunnel, but now that it had been in vain, when he could feel Graphite’s wavering as he helped him walk, it was different. Suddenly, the invincibility of the Bugsters seemed like a fragile illusion, especially when he heard the Dragon Bugster grunting in pain beside him. When they reached the cover of the abandoned tunnel, Graphite pulled free, stumbling over to the wall and sinking to the ground. Parad watched him as he pressed his back against the concrete, leaning his head on it and closing his eyes, taking deep, shaky breaths.  
It must have hurt, he realised, to have your coding ripped up and pieces picked out. A feeling he didn’t recognise twisted in his stomach, and it suddenly occurred to him that it was probably guilt. He should have thought of the possibility that Cronus would have another defence, had a contingency plan, gotten more information before he let the other Bugster—his brother—gamble with his life. Sighing, he crouched down and put a hand Graphite’s shoulder, squeezing gently.  
“Rest up, okay? We’ll think of something.” Graphite didn’t open his eyes, but nodded faintly, though his head stayed lounging against the wall. Parad didn’t let go, half afraid the weakened Dragon Bugster would fade away if he did. Graphite’s condition looked strikingly like the way a girl in Emu’s preschool class had when she’d collapsed during show and tell—a bad fever, Ex-Aid’s memories in his mind had the teacher saying; though that couldn’t be what this was, the symptoms looked the same—shivering in a cold that didn’t exist, sweating despite it, brows knitting against whatever pain he was enduring. He watched the other Bugster’s face, absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder, as if that could help in some way.  
He felt a shadow fall across his back.  
He flinched back, turning quickly. He hadn’t heard the man approach, but there was absolutely a figure standing in the circle of the tunnel opening, having appeared just as suddenly as they sometimes did. Graphite opened his eyes, finally, turning his head to look at the arrival. He tried to lurch forward, but Parad pressed a hand to his chest, forcing him back as he himself stood, angling his body so that he stood between the other Bugster and the stranger.  
“Who are you?” The man tilted his head, stepping forward. When he was no longer silhouetted by the sunlight, Parad could make out some of the details about him. His clothing was blue, black, and purple gilded with silver, a tunic with billowing sleeves under a long-tailed vest above leather trousers and boots. He had one earring and three rings on each had, all silver as well; his hair was black save for a streak of purple as it swooped in front of his face in long bangs, hiding it from Parad’s scrutiny. The one eye he could see was a deeper blue than should have been possible, as if he needed another sign that this man was not human. The stranger ignored the question, however, unfolding his arms from his chest, sidling forward another step.  
“… I thought I sensed him.” The voice was deep and reverberating, like an intrusive ripple on a still pond. “But I was not expecting this.”  
“I asked who you were!” Parad was losing patience, narrowing his eyes at the stranger. The man increased his pace, stalking purposefully further into the tunnel, circling them with an air that reminded Parad far too much of a hunting predator; he turned on his heels to be sure he kept shielding Graphite.  
“No one of consequence.” The man said, then snapped his fingers, a curved blade materialising in his hand. “And no hard feelings.” Swinging the blade, he dove at them.  
Parad barely managed to Henshin, catching the scimitar in his hand. Sparks flew from his suit as the man dragged the blade across his palm before twisting away, squaring off. There was no emotion in what little of his face Parad could see, hidden behind the curtain of hair, and no hesitation when he came forward for another strike. This one took two arms to block, and then one of the stranger’s hands reached out and grabbed him by the collar, throwing him against the other wall with ease. Scrambling to his feet, Parad looked up to see the man advancing on Graphite as the other Bugster struggled to rise, hands slipping on the wall, lacking the strength to transform.  
“Stop!” He lunged forward, tackling the stranger by the waist, sending them both rolling further into the tunnel. He heard Graphite calling his name, but didn’t have time to look up when the man’s foot connected with his abdomen, knocking him away. The stranger got to his feet, attacking again with impossible speed; Parad was stuck defending, being beaten back without the chance to get a hit in. A cross strike he wasn’t able to block in time sent him skidding on the ground again, knocking him out of his Henshin.  
A roar that could only be a dragon’s filled the tunnel, albeit a slightly hoarse cry. Graphite barreled into the man, half by intention and half because his strength gave out and he could no longer stay on his feet, shoving him away. It wasn’t hard for the man to shake him off, but once he did, he seized Graphite by the throat, pinning him to the wall with his feet off the ground then setting the point of his weapon against the Bugster’s chest. Though Graphite tried to fight him off, he couldn’t do much more than claw weakly at the man’s wrist. For a moment, the stranger’s brow knit, and his mouth twisted.  
“I really am sorry about this. But I cannot allow him to escape. I promise, it will only hurt for a moment; there are worse ways to be deleted.” He shouldered the blade forward sharply, and Graphite let out a scream of pain that Parad was certain would haunt him forever, his hands dropping their futile hold on the man’s arm.  
“No!” The cracking, desperate voice surprised him until he realised it was his. What followed the shout was even more startling. “No. Please.” The man did pause, hardly moving aside from turning his head to show Parad he was listening. Parad got to his feet slowly, aching from the fight; but Graphite was the one with a sword partway through him, a sword that could apparently kill him permanently, though Parad could tell he was still alive—barely. Since he’d already leapt into the hole, he decided he might as well continue. “Please. If he dies, I’ll… I’ll be alone.” He managed a few steps, then fell forward on his knees. “I… I can’t. I can’t handle that. Please, whatever it is, we’ll help you, but **just let him live**.” He gritted his teeth and refused to look up, ashamed of how much like begging it sounded. But it seemed to be the only way. Unbidden, something wet blurred his eyes. “Please. I don’t want to be alone!” At last, he looked up into the stranger’s face, seeking desperately for some sign of understanding.  
For a momet, in the booming silence that followed, there was a flicker in the blue eye that might have been empathy, though that was a subject Parad himself was largely a stranger to.  
After what seemed like a century or more, the man surprised Parad by pulling his blade out and stepping back, allowing Graphite to fall in a heap on the ground. Parad didn’t waste a moment in rushing forward and gathering the other Bugster in his arms, clutching the unconscious form protectively to his chest.  
With a flick of the wrist, the man’s sword vanished, and he took a few steps back towards the opening of the tunnel, then paused.  
“You should know…” He said, slowly, in a tone that the Bugster could not place. “… It would probably be more merciful for me to do it now. He’s going to die either way.” Parad’s arms wrapped subconsciously tighter around Graphite.  
“… You’re lying.”  
“I have no reason to lie to you.” The man gave a loud sigh, like he was remembering something particularly unpleasant. “Gemedus’ data is a poison. It does nothing but contaminate and consume anything it touches." Another, harrowing breath escaped him. "The damage is already done. How do you think I found you?” Finally, the stranger turned again, though this time his posture was not hostile. If anything, he was gazing at the two Bugsters with pity in his eyes. “I’ve been hunting the remnants of Gemedus for years to try and prevent his escape—I’m attuned to them. I sensed Gemedus in him; that was why I felt it necessary to destroy him.” Glaring, Parad deliberately leaned over Graphite, shielding him with his back. The man groaned, a low, sad sound. “Very well. But let me warn you—with a will like that, he might survive to see Cronus release Gemedus, but I guarrantee he won’t live much longer than that. Fragments of Gemedus are never really severed from him; at best, he’ll absorb him—at worst, control him. You might want to prepare yourself.” He turned on his heel and began to walk away again.  
“Just who are you?” Another long pause.  
“I am Ultimas. And I will stop Gemedus. At any cost.”  
And then the stranger was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Ultimas is an OC I created for Ex Aid a while ago, and him and his one-track mind just decided they should pop into this fic. I am going to write his backstory up, too, which will probably put a new look on his behaviour here.
> 
> Ultimas will return.
> 
>  
> 
> ... No, seriously, he's REALLY hard to get rid of.


End file.
